The city did not sleep that night.
It pulsed.
Lights stayed on too long in buildings that usually went dark by midnight. Cars idled in alleys with engines humming low and patient. Phones vibrated once, twice, then went silent—messages read and deleted, orders understood without reply.
Something had shifted.
Matthew felt it in his bones.
He stood in the underground office again, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, hands braced against the steel table. The map before him had changed since the last time—more red markers, more names circled in white.
Too many.
"X isn't consolidating," Kieran said from behind him. "He's baiting."
Matthew didn't look back. "No. He's testing response time."
Kieran frowned. "Same difference."
Matthew finally turned. His eyes were cold, sharp, but focused—not the blind rage from before. This was different. Controlled. Dangerous in a quieter way.
"He wants to see who moves first," Matthew said. "Who panics. Who reaches too far."
